


Close Quarters

by Pteropoda (SilentP)



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Other, Pre-Earth Transformers, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 13:19:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5418551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentP/pseuds/Pteropoda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Jazz had wound up in some unusual bolt-holes over the course of the war, but this one was a bit more cramped and a lot less structurally sound than his usual fare."</p><p>Or, that time Prowl broke the ice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Close Quarters

**Author's Note:**

> Based off a prompt I got over the summer, heavily edited since then.

Jazz had wound up in some unusual bolt-holes over the course of the war, but this one was a bit more cramped and a lot less structurally sound than his usual fare. The “roof,” a warped beam with an unsteady heap of rubble on top of it, sent dust raining down on Jazz’s head every time the ground shook.

So far the makeshift structure had held, but Jazz didn’t like its chances if the Seekers landed a bomb on top of it. He lifted his helm to glance up at the ceiling as there was another shuddering rumble.

“Stop shifting,” Prowl told him as the back of his helm clunked against Prowl’s bumper.

Jazz snorted. It was the fifth time Prowl had told him that since the explosions had started. “Mech, I barely moved,” he retorted. “And since when did you get so bothered by my fidgeting?”

“Since now,” Prowl replied stiffly. “You’re pushing my doors back.”

Jazz sighed, but obligingly bent forward. It meant Jazz was leaning forward uncomfortably over his knees, and Prowl’s bumper was pressed awkwardly against his back, but it was the only way to accommodate Prowl’s door panels. The space was too narrow for him to extend them and lean back against the wall, and Jazz could hear Prowl’s quiet hisses of pain every time the tips were ground up against the jagged metal that enclosed them.

The shift in position had Prowl’s knees tapping against the outside of Jazz’s thighs, so he pulled his legs together and tried not to think about what a direct hit to their unsteady pile of rubble would do to the Autobot chain of command.

Twenty kliks passed in silence before a muffled boom somewhere in the distance had more dust trickling down onto them, and Jazz twitching back against Prowl’s bumper again.

“Can you really not hold still?” Prowl grumbled.

“Oh, hush up,” Jazz said, jabbing at Prowl with his elbow. “I felt you flinch that time too. You don’t like being stuck like this any more than I do.”

“That may be,” Prowl said dryly, “but I’d rather get through the process without too many paint transfers.”

There was a pause as Jazz swallowed down the thousand dirty jokes that had risen to the tip of his tongue. He didn’t know how long they were going to be stuck here, after all. Being in close quarters with a pissed off Prowl wouldn’t do him any favors. “Yeah,” he said finally. “Sure.”

“In any case,” Prowl continued, “I would much rather get my paint transfers somewhere more comfortable.”

Jazz choked when he inhaled too quickly and got dust down his intakes. “Prowl!” he yelped, when he’d finally cleared his airways. He immediately twisted around in place, to find that Prowl was smiling, utterly self-satisfied.

It took a few moments for Jazz to work through the fit of simultaneous coughing and laughing, and he sagged into the bracing support of Prowl’s leg when he finally got himself under control. “Whooo,” he sighed, grinning like mad. “Prowl, you trying to make me blow a circuit?”

“No,” Prowl said primly. “Didn’t you hear me? A berth is a much better location for that.”

And Jazz went off in helpless spasms of laughter again. He probably sounded hysterical, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. It felt so _good_ to finally pop the swelling tension that had been all but choking him.

It took him a while to fight down the last of the giggles, especially with Prowl at his back being smug, but eventually Jazz got his systems to wind down. “I ain’t complaining,” he said, “but where’ve you been hiding that sense of humor all this time?”

“I have not been hiding anything,” Prowl said. “Officers’ meetings are simply not the place or time.”

And they hardly ever saw one another anywhere else, Jazz thought. Not because they disliked each other, just because they never sought one another out when there wasn’t an official reason for it. _Well_ , Jazz thought with a hidden grin. That would just have to change. “And the middle of a bombardment is?” he asked.

“An appropriate time for a distraction.” Prowl shifted forward slightly, probably attempting to maneuver his door panels into a more comfortable position. “Since there is nothing for us to do but wait.”

“Fair enough,” Jazz said, shrugging. The reminder was a heavy one, but he was determined not to let the mood be dragged down. “So, while we’re on the topic of you loosening up… What would you say if I asked you to look away the next time it sounds like there’s music coming from the rec room?”

“Jazz,” Prowl said primly, and by Primus, the deadpan tone was hilarious now that Jazz knew the amusement that was hiding below it. “Are you suggesting that I ignore a potential security breach?”

“Well,” Jazz drawled, drawing out the syllable to be rewarded by a faint chuckle from Prowl.

The conversation carried on from there, and Jazz found himself surprised by just how easy it was to speak to this mech who had until now been a professional acquaintance at best. With no access to the tactical center’s information or any equipment stronger than their own sensors, they could only listen for the end of the rumbling shudders that signified the explosions.

“It has been two joor since any explosion,” Prowl said after a long period of silence. “There has been no cessation in bombing longer than 0.45 joor since the beginning of the bombing. We should investigate outside.”

“You think it’s safe?” Jazz asked, but he was shuffling his way forward anyway. The gap they had used as an entrance had partially collapsed, but it looked like things had been shaken down rather than blown in, and when Jazz reached the heavy sheet of metal they’d used as a makeshift door, it was intact and he was able to slide it aside without too much strain, once Prowl came forward to help him lever it away.

The air outside was thick with dust and smoke, and Jazz immediately slowed his ventilation system to prevent too many of the particulates from getting drawn into his filters. Beside him, Prowl looked around with a solemn expression, the earlier amusement vanished completely.

“There’s no risking a comm just yet,” Jazz said, glancing around at the rubble and patches of flame. “What’re our chances that they stopped bombing to send in ground troops to pick off any survivors?”

“Low,” Prowl said, glancing around the broken rubble, “but not impossible.”

Jazz grimaced. “Time to start heading toward the bunkers, then,” he muttered. “I’ll take point.” He paused just long enough to give Prowl a weak grin. “You’d better not stare at my aft.”

Prowl gave a surprised cough, but smiled back just as weakly as Jazz. “Lead the way.”

They fell into silence after that, as Prowl let Jazz take the lead in picking a way through the rubble. What had once been a major road was now covered in the rubble of surrounding buildings and broken up to the point of being undrivable, if Jazz had thought to transform. He didn’t. Too much noise, if the Seekers were still around.

Everything seemed to have settled, but Jazz still kept a careful watch on their surroundings as he led Prowl along the length of the road, extending his sensors as far in front of him as he could manage. The cloying dust and the smoke of surrounding fires lingered, continuing to make watching difficult, but Jazz didn’t mind it. As coated in grime as he and Prowl were at the moment, the haze would only help to hide them from any potentially malevolent forces.

Prowl didn’t have Jazz’s experience in moving silently in inclement terrains, but with the both of them moving slowly and Jazz pointing out places to step that would make less noise, they managed together.

It was because of this that the first sign they had of anyone else in the ruins was the sound of footsteps.

Jazz immediately went still, and Prowl did the same behind him, going stiff and extending his door panels to their fullest capacity, trying to catch a hint of who it was ahead of them. Jazz listened for a moment, then relaxed. “Rescue crews,” he said to Prowl quietly. “I’m picking up Autobot comm chatter.”

Prowl nodded, and some of the tension drained from his frame. “Then we should go and make contact,” he said.

Jazz nodded, grinned, and started in the direction of the noises. “Yo mechs!” he shouted into the fog of smoke.

Moments later, they were close enough that he could make out the familiar form of Ironhide, with several soldiers clustered around him. He was holding a gun at the ready, but he lowered it when he caught sight of the two of them.

“Prowl, Jazz,” he said, his voice thick with relief. “We were wonderin’ what’d happened to you two.”

“We got caught a bit far out,” Jazz explained, scrambling over one last chunk of buckled road before joining the group. “Found a little hidey hole and went quiet to avoid drawing attention our way.”

“Sounds like it worked,” Ironhide said with a nod. “Seekers’re gone now, but there’re plenty of mecha still not accounted for.”

“I assume that Optimus will be wanting to hear from us as soon as possible,” Prowl put in, making his own slow way over the obstacles that Jazz had hopped down in his eagerness to join the group. His tone had switched back to his usual businesslike solemnity, and despite the situation Jazz couldn’t help but be disappointed by that.

“Sure will,” Ironhide said. “I can spare a few to walk you back.”

“Go ahead an’ take Prowl,” Jazz said, shaking his head. “They won’t need me back at base for a while yet, I can help you lot with pokin’ around down here.”

Ironhide looked to Prowl for confirmation, but the SiC merely nodded. “Jazz will be just as effective directing things from the ground,” he confirmed. “Jazz, if you would radio ahead to let Prime know that we are well?”

“Sure thing,” Jazz said, and just like that, they went their separate ways.

Jazz watched as Prowl and Ironhide disappeared into the haze. He thought he caught Prowl glancing back over his shoulder as well, but it was hard to tell.

Jazz shook his helm, glancing around at the rubble that was his surroundings, and the squad that was watching him expectantly. “Right,” he said, and opened up a comm line. “Time to get to work. Yo Blaster…”

**Author's Note:**

> Jazz didn’t start watching Prowl then, because he was always watching. But he did start paying more attention to Prowl the mech, instead of Prowl the Third in Command.


End file.
